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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011385">____ With Your Ghost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesitationmarx/pseuds/Hesitationmarx'>Hesitationmarx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danny Phantom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Plans, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Danny Fenton is a Gryffindor fight me, False Identity, Gen, Ghost Zone (Danny Phantom), Ghosts, Gryffindors Being Gryffindors, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mythology References, New Years, Podcast: Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, Room of Requirement, Time Travel, actually no plans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:15:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesitationmarx/pseuds/Hesitationmarx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Avoiding family hols in the Ghost Zone, Danny Fenton comes across a written timeline of another dead-not-dead kid, and impulsively travels to 1997 Scotland to smooth things over (or something).<br/>Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are, meanwhile, trying to figure out how the heck Dumbledore is suddenly not-dead, and also trying (and failing) to avoid obsessing over one another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny Fenton &amp; Draco Malfoy, Danny Fenton &amp; Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prequel and eventual ending for long-abandoned Harry Potter fanfic “Deciding Match.”</p><p>Originally a birthday present for Emma (xparamorexbabex on ffn but don't tell her I said that). It got out of hand, as all things I start tend to do, and here I am 10k words later &amp;i figure i might as well post the start of it [shrugging emoji]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Harry knows—well, Harry knows a solid handful of things, but he knows three which are specifically relevant to the latest ridiculous situation he’s gotten himself into:</p><ol class="ol1">
<li class="li3">His belief, (backed, mind you, by both Hermione and Dumbledore), that the Wizarding World’s access to time travel had been destroyed during the battle at the Department of Mysteries, had been incorrect.
</li>
<li class="li3">His fundamental understanding of ghosts—again backed by Hermione and Dumbledore, and, this time, by conversation with at least one actual ghost—had also been incorrect, or, at least, severely lacking in multiple areas.
</li>
<li class="li3">Taking into account points one and two, as well as the unnerving information passed onto him from Pansy Parkinson (of all people!) who’d gotten it from Draco Malfoy (of ALL people!) who’d apparently gotten it from Severus Snape (of ALL BLOODY people!), Dumbledore wasn’t all that reliable in any case (not to mention that this year’s Dumbledore is almost definitely someone else in disguise, because <em>that’s</em> never been done before).</li>
</ol><p class="p1">However resignedly unsurprised he’d been to hear that Dumbledore did not expect nor intend him to live through the final battle with Voldemort, he’d not simply taken the Slytherin Grapevine at its word. He had, at first, been hopeful that the chain of seemingly less and less trustworthy sources would mean the intel was fake (no matter how much truth—which she certainly couldn’t have known—Pansy casually mentioned, alongside the bombshell that he has to DIE for any of this to be of consequence anyway). But even as he tried to find reason not to believe what Dumbledore had told Snape (who’d told Draco who’d told Pansy), the whole “Dumbledore puppet-mastered my entire goddamn bonkers unnecessarily traumatic life so I’d die a martyr at what he deemed an appropriate moment” thing has been pushed from front-of-the-mind-priority by another <em>Thing</em>. Because Harry is, well, Harry Potter, and that seems to mean all the weird shit happens to him (or, at the very least, in his vicinity), and because God or The Universe or Whomever never runs out of weird shit to pull, and because weird shit, by nature, has to get progressively weirder to still be considered “weird shit” in one’s subjective reality, and because—honestly, Harry gave up on justifying any of it somewhere between finding out his best friend’s rat was a mass killer (or watching himself find out again from slightly-in-the-future), and being forced to fight a dragon because someone (another killer disguised as something else—kinda played out, that one) had confused a fucking cup.</p><p class="p1">And then God or The Universe or Whomever pounded the hell out of the dead horse that is “Harry Potter, your life is fucking bonkers, and buddy you’re probably best off just not questioning any of it at this point.” And he’d been a blood sacrifice for what had seemed an awful lot like necromancy even though no one was calling it that, and the not-quite-ghosts of Cedric, his parents, and some old people had been there, and the government was a sham, and having visions of what some snake was doing was a thing, and the sham government had put Satan Herself in charge of a school, and having fake visions of what Voldemort was doing was a thing, and a magical answering machine voice in a phone booth had given him and 5 other random teenagers visitors passes into the main building of the sham government with their stated purpose for visiting “rescue mission,” and Ron had been high off a curse or something and gotten himself attacked by a fucking brain monster, and what’s-his-name had been turned into a baby from the neck up, and of course there were fucking prophecies and of course one was fucking about him (or, apparently, Neville, so all the bullshit was really an unlucky coin-flip of a life), and then the most important thing was conning an old starfucker out of a memory while they both pretended to mourn a giant spider, and there were suddenly a bunch of quest items, and more weird blood magic, and actual fucking zombies.</p><p class="p1">And, circling back, Dumbledore had either been senile or somehow planned on dying at the most climactic and inopportune moment, leaving Harry with a plan so cryptic and vague that it probably can’t even fairly be called a plan. But (and thank God or The Universe or Whomever that Harry is no longer capable of being shocked) Dumbledore, or someone who looked and acted like Albus Dumbledore, is here, and Snape-or-someone-disguised-as-him is having not-private-private conversations with that someone about Harry, and Draco-or-someone—no, probably just Draco, Harry is fairly confident he’d notice an imposter there—apparently has some pretty impressive information-gathering skills but not the composure to start a civil conversation, so, Pansy.</p><p class="p1">And Harry dying. And Harry’s imminent death being put on the mental back-burner because while trying to parse that he’d been visited by some American kid who looked a bit like him and was a ghost, but also alive, or something. A half-ghost kid (or something) from 10 years in the future, who’d had some genuine goddamn Weird Shit<span class="s1"><sup>TM </sup></span>to explain and about as much skill explaining it as Harry had understanding it.</p><p class="p1">Which is why Harry, grasping tightly to the three relevant things he knows and determined to get at least a fourth thing before trying to process any of it, in spending the last 30 seconds of 1997 under his invisibility cloak in front of the painting leading to the Hogwarts kitchens, next to the American kid who can just become invisible, apparently, but who can not just become mature about it when Harry whispers “Right, we’re here, you’ve just gotta tickle the pear to—“</p><p class="p1">“Tickle the pair? Is that an innuendo? That’s gotta be an innuendo, dude, don’t tell me you’ve never thought it—”</p><p class="p1">“Are you sure you’re not a poltergeist?” interrupts Harry as he climbs through the painting, and the immature ghost just turns incorporeal and follows him through the wall.</p><p class="p1">“Huh? No, I’m Danny,” says Danny, holding out a ghost-hand to shake before seeming to realize and, in a flash of light, turning back into a solid human-looking teenager.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, right, uh, nice to meet you, Danny,” Harry shakes his hand awkwardly, “I’m Harry but you, uh, seemed to know that? What with traveling through space-time to me, specifically, and all.” Danny nods, looking around curiously at the house elves and giving shy half-waves to Dobby and Kreacher, who’ve begun to approach them. “Right,” Harry continues, giving the elves a look he hopes conveys that he’ll be with them in a minute, “but they’ve got names, poltergeists, and you seem like one, kinda, like a ghost but uh… not?” Harry tries to explain the difference with some vague hand gestures and plows on “because, well, I only know the one we’ve here, but you certainly act more like him than any other ghost I know.”</p><p class="p1">“Um, no? I... don’t think so. I’m super not a ghost scientist though, that’s my mom’s thing, and I’m super not planning on ever asking her opinion ‘cause I know her opinion on ghosts overall and I don’t wanna be ‘ripped-apart-molecule-by-molecule’ or, like, vivisected and studied in any sized pieces,” Danny rambles, looking a bit nauseous at the thought.</p><p class="p1">Harry blinks. “Oh… sorry mate, that sounds… complicated? and pretty gross.”</p><p class="p1">“Definitely gross,” Danny agrees, then, looking excited again, “you mentioned hot chocolate? I can definitely-possibly explain the time travel crap and the other crap better with some hot chocolate.”</p><p class="p1">“Right, er, Dobby? Could Danny and I have hot chocolates, please?”</p><p class="p1">Dobby gives an excited little bow, nearly tipping the stack of hats off his head. “Yes, sir, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is making two hot chocolates for Harry Potter and Harry Potter’s friend!” Dobby bounds off to presumably make said hot chocolates, leaving Kreacher eyeing Danny suspiciously.</p><p class="p1">----</p><p class="p1">Danny is having trouble articulating, wrapping his mind around, and honestly even remembering, what he had been desperate enough to communicate that he’d crossed an ocean and nearly a decade. He knows, of course, if he focuses on it for long enough to actually see the memory as more than hazy, threatening thing in the distance, he’ll be able to recount the situation with enough coherence that Harry will be able to piece it together. But it’s probably more an avoiding-it-thing than a can’t-do-it-thing… It’s definitely an avoiding-it-thing, he acknowledges to himself, as he thanks the small-humanoid-slave-thing wearing approximately 13 hats for his hot chocolate and sits down on a chair Harry had—magicked?—there while Danny had been avoiding eye contact.</p><p class="p1">“Danny?” Harry prompts from his own magicked chair over his own midget-hat-fanatic-slave-cocoa, “not to push but you seemed… well, a bit frantic over having to tell me… something?”</p><p class="p1">Danny nods, opens his mouth to say…anything, disguises the intent to speak by sipping the hot chocolate (which is very good), and swallows awkwardly. He supposes he should be—he is—grateful Harry seems to be taking this all very much in stride. Maybe he’s used to half-ghosts from the future visiting; his weird magic school does have a weird magic room that had created a temporary portal to the Ghost Zone? But he doesn’t seem to know much about ghosts. Not that anyone seems to know much about ghosts—mom, Danny supposes, but mom had tried to shoot him with something that looked like a giant silver hair-dryer with “Fenton” on it last week while muttering to herself about how interesting it was that he seemed to be “pretending” to breathe.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” he finally says, giving Harry a ‘absolutely nothing to worry about my dude I definitely have this whole thing figured out’ grin, “not sure where to start.”</p><p class="p1">“Well,” Harry starts, looking at him with a disconcerting mix of determination and friendliness, “you’re from 2007?”</p><p class="p1">“Yep, I mean, I was born in 1990 and I died—half died? not sure on the details, wasn’t alive for all of it—anyway, I died in 2004, but it was ’07 when I came. And it’s phantom, not, uh, poltergeist or whatever. That’s not a scientific term or anything but that’s what my friends call me when I’m a ghost. If you were wondering. And all this magic shit is totally frickin new to me just for, um, for the record.”</p><p class="p1">“Alright, yeah, don’t worry about it? Phantom, cool, noted, and I…I can try’n explain the magic shite? Maybe after I get the basics on why you came to Scotland in,” he checks his watch, “1998—happy new year, by the way.”</p><p class="p1">“Happy new year,” Danny echos automatically, though hearing the year struck a memory-chord and brought a layer of what he’s came here for into disconcerting focus. He decides he isn’t going to decide now to start going for tactful and well-spoken, and jumps into it. “Well it’s kinda because—okay so there’s history and stuff, in the Ghost Zone, right? And the ghosts—normally most of them don’t like me, but they’re all weird civil on Christmas and my parents are weird not civil on Christmas so I was there, eating ecto-cookies with the Box Ghost like a normal frickin highschooler, and Clockwork and some old-wise-person-type ghosts were—gossiping? I wasn’t even tryna overhear them but they mentioned me and something about dying not always sticking and the nervous librarian ghost dude got all excited and started talking fast about ‘similar cases’ or something and I… well I followed them to the library,” he pauses to breathe, drink some cocoa, and check if Harry is following.</p><p class="p1">“Ghost history, and someone… else in history that was—that died but it didn’t stick? Like how you’re not dead?” Harry repeats, raising his eyebrows.</p><p class="p1">“Bullseye! Pretty much, except not exactly like me I don’t think, but yeah that’s how come I was curious I think. But there were—options? Like, timeline options, like how one time I cheated on a test and had to deal with my evil future self and then go back and not cheat for like, morals reasons I guess. Not exactly like that. You were very moral in all the timelines, it must be like a real basic character trait. The other guy was all over the place though, and anyways it’d be kinda shit for you both—or it will be? timeline crap, whatever—‘cause if you die in four and a half months but he doesn’t then from what I’ve gathered it gets tense as heck in a couple decades and—okay this is probly super flippin weird to hear sorry—in a couple decades your kid and his kid do some wildass nonsense with several timelines and y’all pull it together usually but I mean it seems like why not avoid it completely right?”</p><p class="p1">----</p><p class="p1">Danny finally pauses to catch his breath, or train of thought, or perhaps he just pauses out of pity because Harry is so obviously losing the plot, and Harry takes the moment to try to process. His brain sticks on two points: “I’m alive in a couple decades?” he asks, then, before Danny can get caught up qualifying alive or bring up ‘timeline options’ again, “and who’s the ‘other guy’?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, ‘course, see I meant to talk to both of you at once but he was whining and sent some kinda magic blast at Pansy when she tried to talk to him so I figured I’d wait.”</p><p class="p1">Harry thinks he might know where this was going, because of course that’s where this is going, but he just raises his eyebrows to remind Danny he hasn’t actually answered the question.</p><p class="p1">Danny rolls his eyes. “Draco, duh. Really it seems like the only times things aren’t happening to you it’s ‘cause they’re happening to him. Dunno how he’s supposed to deal with all that when he’s having an entire meltdown over wizard football and his daddy issues.”</p><p class="p1">“Draco… Malfoy?” Harry asks, mostly just to say something. He’d gotten a bit hung up on the image of Malfoy having an ‘entire meltdown,’ which had been far less fun to picture than he’d hoped, as it called to mind the last ‘meltdown’ of Malfoy’s he’d been privy to, which inevitably brought forth the memory of Malfoy bleeding out in the bathroom because he, Harry, had wanted to try a spell he knew nothing about.</p><p class="p1">“Is Draco a common name here?” Danny is asking, and Harry is dimly aware Danny has been going on for a couple minutes while he was watching a looping image of Malfoy getting cut open, falling, getting cut open, falling, over and over like a moment caught in a wizarding photograph. He shakes his head.</p><p class="p1">“Actually, this would be a good point to have fill you both in, you can’t just like… call him, can you?” Danny asks.</p><p class="p1">“Call him?” Harry echos, still blinking away the blood-soaked Malfoy from his memory, “er, no… no telephones in here.” Though this seems rather obvious. Unless Danny is suggesting he could just say Malfoy’s name and magically summon him, which is totally ridiculous, except— “hold on, Kreacher!”</p><p class="p1">“What is Kreacher needed for?” the elf asks from suddenly-right-next-to-them, “if Kreacher is to be spying on young master Malfoy again—”</p><p class="p1">“Not spying!” Harry cuts him off hurriedly, feeling himself blush and passionately ignoring that observation, “but if you don’t mind, er, fetching him? Draco Malfoy, that is. Tell him it’s very important and I’ll explain everything and also I’m sorry for nearly killing him last year.”</p><p class="p1">Kreacher gives Harry a disdainful look, but nods and disappears on the spot.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco is laying in his bed with the curtains drawn and his left arm covering his eyes, his wand still held loosely in his right hand after drawing it to banish Pansy and re-close the curtains. For all he used to look down on students who had nowhere better to be, staying at Hogwarts for the winter holidays had been a bit of an obvious choice, given his parents are still hosting the Dark Lord and assorted unsavory guests. Draco does like spending Christmas with his family, though, on reflection, ‘family’ mostly refers to his mother. Lucius is, at best, a tolerable source of expensive gifts, and, at worst, a disapproving glare accompanying a dialogue of everything Draco had or is currently failing at. Aunt Bella is his relation only because the world seems to have no mercy.</p>
<p class="p1">Besides, Severus will be at the school, and while Draco has always respected the man on principle, he is now impossibly indebted to him for stepping in on the Astronomy Tower last spring, and beyond that Severus seems to be teasing him with bits of information without outright telling him how in the name of fuck Dumbledore is acting headmaster while also being buried on the grounds. That and surreptitious hints that Draco should ‘rethink his loyalties,’ which had all been quite enough to worry about, before he mentioned (with an offhandedness that Draco thinks had been rather forced) that Potter is meant to <em>die</em>. And something in Severus’s tone seemed to imply—or perhaps Draco had filled this in himself—that something should be done about this.</p>
<p class="p1">Draco sighs dramatically, lifting his arm from over his eyes only to squint at the Dark Mark in annoyance, and wordlessly summons a sweater so he won’t have to look at it. He keeps ahold of his wand while pulling on the sweater, and is considering whether it’s sensible to blindly aim a spell at his hair to flatten it when a <em>crack</em> outside his four-poster makes him freeze.</p>
<p class="p1">“What?” Draco calls irritably in the direction of the noise.</p>
<p class="p1">“Young master Malfoy,” comes the reply as an elderly elf shuffles into view, bowing deeply. “Harry Potter is summoning you to the kitchens, sir, saying it is ‘important’ and ‘he will explain everything’ and he is ‘sorry for nearly killing you last year.’”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh course he is,” sighs Draco, although he is (against his own better judgement) almost touched by the shit apology. “Yes, well, alright as I’ve nothing better to do, one moment—” he points his wand at the common room door and summons a bottle of the elf-made wine Blaise brought out for New Years. He shifts his wand between his fingers, catches the unopened bottle, and looks back at the elf. “Shall we, then?”</p>
<p class="p1">In response, the elf grabs his wrist and he finds himself in the kitchen, where Harry Potter is indeed waiting, leaning forward with his elbow on his knees and tapping his foot anxiously. Across from him is a boy about their age Draco has never seen before, though going by the ill fitting muggle clothing and hopeless mess of black hair he might be Potter’s long lost relation of some kind. Both looks up when he and Kreacher appear, and Draco tries to communicate with a glare that ‘this had better be good.’</p>
<p class="p1">The boy Draco doesn’t recognize gives him a friendly wave, floating (<em>wait</em>, was he—yes, <em>definitely</em> floating) towards Draco, who shifts his bottle of wine and wand from his right hand and offers it to the being. “I’m Draco Malfoy, in the same year as Potter here at Hogwarts.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Danny F— Phantom. Cool to meet you, I don’t. um, go here,” he drops Draco’s hand and gestures vaguely to encompass the whole castle.</p>
<p class="p1">“I thought not, I certainly don’t recognize you, but in order for you to be here—well, <em>are</em> you a witch, Phantom?” Phantom seems to be slightly shocked by the question, and Potter still hasn’t approached Draco exactly, and is rather leaning against a cabinet glancing up at each of them in between what seems an intense study of his shoelaces. Draco takes the time to set the wine on a counter, summon a goblet, and de-cork and pour a generous amount of wine for what is certainly going to be a painful attempt at a conversation.</p>
<p class="p1">“Aren’t witches girls?” Phantom finally replies, and Potter seems to be readying himself to defend this (utterly irrelevant) train of thought when Draco glares at him.</p>
<p class="p1">Draco resumes eye contact with Phantom as he explains in an appropriately bored and theatrically slow voice, “‘<em>witch</em>’ is a gender neutral term. I’ve only just met you, and it is impolite to assume.” <em>Salazar’s</em> <em>dong</em>, neither of them had ever learned <em>manners</em>. Not that he expects anything else from Potter at this point, and if he’s honest with himself he’s always found Potter’s chaotic way of expressing himself… well, it suits him.</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m not magic like you guys,” Phantom says, “but I’m not like… normal? I’m sort of a ghost, uh, I did try to explain this bit to Harry already I’m not sure I really made sense.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Right, I don’t think it tracks with anything we’ve studied, but I think it’s a bit like Danny’s a ghost animagus?” Potter interrupts, looking between Draco and Phantom as if for reassurance, “‘Cause he can switch back and forth. And he has access to this sort of ghost magic—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Ecto-energy,” Phantom cuts in, “and mostly when I’m in my ghost form but I can still like, go intangible and stuff.” He waves his arm through a nearby counter in explanation.</p>
<p class="p1">Draco briefly considers fetching a quill and parchment and some books on wandless magical theory, obscure part-human magical creatures, and cases of consensual co-possession of the body by humans and spirits, but none of those seem quite right and there is, after all, some reason he’s been dragged out of bed for this. “I’ll accept that explanation for the moment. Potter, your elf said you needed to explain something important to me?”</p>
<p class="p1">Potter gives a small nod, then adds uncertainly, “is that all he said then?”</p>
<p class="p1">Draco rolls his eyes. “That you’re sorry for nearly killing me last year. I’m flattered, nearly as much as I’d have been were you to apologize in person.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I <em>am</em> sorry, Draco, I didn’t know what it did I was <em>horrified</em>—“ Potter is becoming uncomfortably earnest.</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, Merlin, apology accepted, Potter. I’m sorry for, I don’t know; plotting to murder your mentor figure; the ‘Potter Stinks’ buttons; saying I hoped Slytherin’s monster would kill Granger; calling Granger a mudblood overall, even when I <em>was</em> on the pureblood supremacy bullshit I was far more upset with her for being best in our class; dressing up as a Dementor; numerous plots to get you in trouble, many of which failed, but which did take a great deal of my attention in earlier years; Katie Bell, Ron Weasley, the Consequences of fixing the vanishing cabinet; and, ahh, the ‘inquisitorial Squad’ being one of objectively the most twattish of all the supremely twattish things I’ve done. And an apology that the preceding apology list is neither exhaustive nor well formulated.”</p>
<p class="p1">Potter is now staring at him, still looking far too earnest.</p>
<p class="p1">Draco sighs deeply, leans back against the counter and sips his wine a bit impatiently. “Now that we’ve had a nice little trip down memory lane and I’ve assured Potter I’m not still <em>cut up</em> about one little duel, will someone please enlighten me as to why I’ve been summoned here?” He looks pointedly between his two kidnappers, sitting on the counter and topping off his wine glass while they launch into an incredibly messy explanation.</p>
<p class="p1">----</p>
<p class="p1">Danny gives Harry a weak thumbs-up as the other boy finishes catching Draco Malfoy up on what the hell they’re all doing here. Draco, for his part, shows no indication of being anything other than bored and slightly inconvenienced by the whole situation, and Danny wants to tell both witches they’re being extremely fucking casual about their own deaths but figures that, what with also having died, he hasn’t much of a leg to stand on. And besides, this is a really good distraction from Christmas in Amity Park, but he forgot to ask (or research or, truthfully, consider) how time at home would pass while he’s in 1998 and <em>shit</em>, Sam and Tucker are probably getting worried if it’s New Years there, too.</p>
<p class="p1">“I can get you guys the books, I think!” he blurts out, not sure whether this is even true.</p>
<p class="p1">“Books?” Harry asks, looking back guiltily from the almost empty wine bottle he’d nearly stolen from Draco. Draco shoots Harry a knowing glare, pointing his wand lazily over his shoulder and then sticking it behind his ear to catch two more wine bottles flying from heck knows where.</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, on the possible futures and stuff, dunno why it’s recorded but it’s damn convenient, you probably don’t need me loitering while you all decide what to do with the information right?” he stands hurriedly, letting himself go instinctively intangible to avoid knocking over anything. Then it hits Danny that he has no idea where the room with the ghost portal is, so he groans and goes tangible again, clearing his throat. “Uh, actually, y’all probably know your way around this place way better than me,” he starts, trying very hard to sound casual. “What’s the… uh the best way back to the Ghost Portal? Kinda just went through some walls and floors and stuff on my way here so I don’t really…”</p>
<p class="p1">When Danny gets his shit together enough he’s done looking everywhere <em>but</em> at the witch kids, he notices they’re both staring at him quite blankly. “The… Ghost Portal?” Harry says, and <em>fuck Danny’s whole life and afterlife,</em> the magic people obviously don’t know what the Ghost Portal is, they don’t even have electricity!</p>
<p class="p1">“Y’know…” Dany tries, “funny metal octagon with like…” he waves his hands around desperately, “swirly, bright green stuff inside?” Danny gives the witches a pleading look, arms still flapping about feebly.</p>
<p class="p1">Harry looks sympathetic but still very lost. Draco looks pretty nonplussed, but he’s absently tapping his fingers against his wine glass and humming softly as if thinking. It’s Draco who speaks. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever come across anything matching that description. I’d suggest Potter might have, as he’s very well versed in sneaking about the school, but judging by the dumb expression it seems he hasn’t either.”</p>
<p class="p1">Danny lets out a hopeless little whine. “Actually uh I don’t know, now that I’m thinking about it, I dunno if you’d have come across it, like, the room it was in didn’t actually have a door? on the outside? which is fine I can just go through but I guess you… well… probably can’t?” He doesn’t know if this is the case, since they do have magic, but so far it doesn’t seem like magic has as many practical applications as he’d have guessed.</p>
<p class="p1">Both witches seem to get some sort of realization from this, though, and glance meaningfully at each other, then back to him. “Was the room without a door across from a tapestry with, er, trolls, like, dancing on it, by any chance?” Harry asks, and that’s such a ridiculous thing to ask Danny just gapes for a moment before rubbing his eyes, trying to remember.</p>
<p class="p1">“Eight southern mountain trolls in ballet wear, although it's a bit generous to call what they’re doing dancing,” Draco amends, “dopey, over-enthusiastic fellow in the center trying to lead them.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Actually… I think so?” Danny starts, remembering something that might have been that. He has no idea what a southern mountain troll is, but he does remember the first thing he noticed after leaving the no-door-room being a big moving picture he’d mentally dubbed ‘ogres in tutus.’ “Yes, yeah, how’d you know? Does that mean you do know where the Portal is?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I think we might, yeah,” Harry answers. “Alright, seventh floor, Malfoy, are you coming or should I just send you a patronus if we get the books Danny was talking about?”</p>
<p class="p1">Draco sighs delicately, draining his glass and then vanishing it with a whisper and a wand movement. “I suppose I’ve nothing better to do. Alright, ghost boy, looks like we’re getting you into the Room of Hidden Things.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, a different version of the Room of Requirement, probably. Unless you saw a portal in there, Malfoy? S’pose I could’ve missed it,” Harry replies, and Danny is totally not following the conversation, but it’s fine because he totally is following the witches and they seem to know where they’re going.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What've the Slytherins been up to? How did the Dumbledore conspiracy rumors Harry referenced evolve?</p><p>No concrete answers because no one knows what the heck is happening, author included. Some sort of answer-adjacent context—autumn 1997, Draco's POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The third time Severus outright refuses to tell him who’s impersonating Albus Dumbledore, Draco realizes he’ll likely have to work this out on his own, and for that he’s definitely going to need a plan. He announces as much to the Slytherin dorm as soon as he’s back.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll get the pens,” says Pansy, disappearing into her room before anyone else gets a single word out.</p><p class="p1">“Crabbe, the spare parchment from my bag,” he says, holding his hand out and making a comfortable space on the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Summon it yourself,” Vincent grunts, barely looking up from his card game with Greg.</p><p class="p1">Draco glares at him, but does. “You’ll still be helping me if I find you necessary,” he snaps.</p><p class="p1">Greg answers him this time. “Will Vinny get to be a girl again?” He sounds hopeful. Draco feels a muscle in his face twitch.</p><p class="p1">“Vinny,” Draco repeats, looking from Greg to Vincent. “<em>Vinny</em>?” Vincent nods, not looking at all bothered enough. Draco closes his eyes and decides he simply needs new friends. As if to prove his point, Pansy flies back into the room and slides onto the floor across from him, dropping at least two dozen gel pens into the space between them.</p><p class="p1">“The pens,” she announces. “All good plans use color coded pens.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t even own a pen,” Draco points out, “and my plans are fine.”</p><p class="p1">Pansy gives him a skeptical look. “Draco, you’re brilliant, but if we leave you on your own you’ll have a meltdown and try to replace me with Myrtle again.” Draco opens his mouth to argue, but is distracted catching the handful of pens she’s just thrown at him, and she keeps talking. “No, darling, look, I’m not still angry you tried to replace me with Myrtle, I don’t get it, like, at all, but I’m a loyal friend so I’ve forgiven you. So, what kind of plan do we need? Blaise should still have the last brainstorming session notes for getting Harry Potter’s attention, are we doing that again? Or is it the sort of plan where Vince has to turn into a girl?”</p><p class="p1">Draco doesn’t even know which part of this to dispute first, and Pansy talks incredibly fast sometimes, so it’s absolutely her fault that he ends up saying “I made Goyle a girl too.” Pansy snorts a very undignified laugh.</p><p class="p1">“But we’d rather Vinny be the girl,” says Greg from behind him. Vincent grunts in agreement.</p><p class="p1">Draco truly needs new friends.</p><p class="p1">“On your own time,” Draco answers in what he thinks is a remarkably even voice. The muscle under his eye is definitely twitching. He’s going to get premature wrinkles, and it’s not going to be the absolute disaster of sixth year that does him in, it’s going to be whatever <em>this</em> is. He almost wishes the Dark Lord had just killed his whole family and been done with it. “Severus won’t tell me who’s impersonating Albus Dumbledore. I know you all know Dumbledore was murdered by Severus last spring, because Pansy got the whole story out of me on the train and she’s a terrible gossip. And Zabini, hold onto the other list, thanks, it’s a shame to waste good ideas.”</p><p class="p1">Blaise clears his throat, holding what must be the list. “‘Befriend aunt Andomeda’s kid, the one into the werewolf,” he reads, “‘charm them into hearing me out, help them come to realization the werewolf is still into mother’s cousin/Potter’s godfather, use this information’ I’ve then written several question marks because the intermediate steps were never clarified. It ends with ‘Potter enlists me to sort all future relationship drama among his weird friends, attention successfully attained.’ And that’s one of the better ones, honestly,” he shakes his head, making disdainful air quotes with his free hand, “‘<em>good ideas</em>.’”</p><p class="p1">Draco just glares at Blaise. He’s already replacing all his friends as soon as possible, if Blaise wants to be a bitch now, well. They’ve bigger things to worry about. “Oh just file it away,” Draco snaps, waving a dismissing hand. “And either shut up or tell me who is impersonating Dumbledore, we need specifics with which to confront Severus or he’ll never let anything slip.”</p><p class="p2">----</p><p class="p1">By the time Draco is considering heading to bed, Greg and Vince are actually helping—between exchanging truly concerning attempted winks—, Blaise has waved Theo over to weigh in (and probably to make fun of Draco to while he’s busy, but, well, priorities), and Pansy has gotten Daphne and Millicent involved in whatever gel pen based scheme she’s enacting here.</p><p class="p1">“Right, Millie, you have the possibilities of someone using polyjuice potion made prior to Albus Dumbledore’s death separated from those who could be holding him captive to make the potion?” Pansy asks, twisting the tip of a shimmery purple pen through a loose strand of her hair.</p><p class="p1">“Turquoise and emerald, respectively,” answers Millicent, gesturing with her wand as she sticks a few scraps of blue parchment into a column against the dorm wall, “sapphire for those who could be behind either.”</p><p class="p1">“Brilliant,” says Pansy, “and for those who could be holding him captive—“</p><p class="p1">“Every known accomplice they could’ve had impersonating him at the alleged time of death,” Daphne interrupts, pointing her wand at the blue-green lists so this intel unfolds under the original theory, “and every possible secondary means of impersonation for each suspect,” she waves her wand over the lists and several points are speared with miniature peacock feathers which serve as asterisks to lists of experimental bits of magic in tiny, neat calligraphy.</p><p class="p1">Draco isn’t going to admit it out loud, but concedes to himself it’s possible he underestimated the Slytherin girls.</p><p class="p2">----</p><p class="p1">Theodore and Blaise fell asleep sometime in the past hour despite Pansy’s continued talking and repeated orders of espresso from the kitchens, Vincent and Gregory disappeared behind the drawn curtains of Vince’s bed around the same time and show no signs of reappearing, and Draco is surrounded by gel pens, stickers, candy wrappers, and three obnoxiously awake girls who’ve begun to kind of frighten him.</p><p class="p1">“Draco, are you listening?” Pansy snaps, waving a hand in front of his face, “I said we’ve got this as sorted as we can without more information on the short list of suspects!”</p><p class="p1">“Merlin, yes, I’m listening, wonderful, and?” Draco grabs her wrist before she can start flailing her hand about again. He’s fairly sure she’s only doing it so he’ll notice her manicure, and he’s already noticed, it’s ridiculously sparkly.</p><p class="p1">“<em>And</em>,” says Pansy, exasperated, “that’s your cue to offer to gather information on the short list, of course! Here, Daphne made an abbreviated version of theories you should be able to look into,” she takes a sheet of multi-colored, glittery parchment from Daphne, taps it with her wand so it rolls into a tight scroll, and shoves it into Draco’s hand. “We have all the technical details here in your room, and I’ve made a copy for the girls’ dorm, they’re connected with a modified protean charm so we’ll see any updates you add and vise-versa.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ll stick to the color scheme,” adds Millicent, somewhat threateningly. Draco nods sharply, and looks at the little scroll in his hand. It seems to be leaking glitter at one end, but, well, they have been helpful, and the color scheme isn’t <em>bad</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Brill!” sings Pansy, “I’ll be taking a well deserved nap. Draco, be an angel and give my condolences to the other unfortunates taking N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, hmm?”</p><p class="p1">Draco looks at his watch and sighs, standing and meeting Daphne’s eye while Pansy falls around the corner to the girls’ dorm. “Greengrass, are you coming, or has everyone abandoned their studies for arts and crafts?” he peels a string of rhinestones from his sleeve and banishes it pointedly.</p><p class="p1">“You must start calling me Daphne,” answers Daphne, conjuring a mirror in her palm and straightening her robes. “Honestly, our parents are set on your marrying Astoria after she’s finished school, we’re nearly family.” She pulls a pin from thin air and fixes her hair into an intentional looking knot before banishing the mirror and grabbing Draco’s elbow, leading him out of the dorms and through the common room with far too much energy.</p><p class="p1">“I have no interest in marrying your little sister!” Draco protests as they pass several groups of younger Slytherins, thankfully not including the sister in question.</p><p class="p1">Daphne laughs. “Of course you don’t! It’s mutual, you know. Astoria’s entirely gay. That’s part of why we pushed the idea with mother to begin with.”</p><p class="p1">“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco replies, wondering if it’s too late to pretend to be ill. Daphne just giggles madly, and since Draco is resigned to being next to her for the whole of Transfiguration he decides to distract himself going through the glittery list of suspects.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p3">‘Not Dumbledore!’ A brief summary of suspects based upon current circumstances in light of known events of spring 1997, as interpreted by myself, Pansy Parkinson, all rights reserved.</p>
  <p class="p3">Our top seven theories as of present (subject to change in accordance with additional information to be gathered by myself, as well as by Draco L. Malfoy &amp;co*):</p>
  <p class="p3">*(none of us are sure what exactly “&amp;co” means)</p>
  <p class="p3">1. Suspect: Gellert Grindelwald; method: probably necromancy, or some sort of dark magic based perceptual trick; motive: combination of outdated Northern blood politics and petty revenge? Or just petty revenge? (lacking first person reports of Grindelwald’s pettiness re: Dumbledore being a prick, suspected to be at least moderately petty.)</p>
  <p class="p3">2. Suspect: Augusta Longbottom; method: she just grew a beard, or bought a fake beard, the resemblance was already there; motive: I heard that she knew some incredibly sensitive information that Dumbledore was trying to keep quiet, something about Potter and the Dark Lord but also to do with her grandson? Yes, Neville, shut up I heard it from a credible source. She’d absolutely do this you can’t say she’s not terrifying!</p>
  <p class="p3">3. Suspect: Severus Snape (accomplices: Narcissa Malfoy[?], Albus Dumbledore); method: incredibly skilled use of technicalities when not-lying, at least one instance of falsified identities using polyjuice potion; motive: at least partly to cover Draco’s arse—sorry, Draco!—and of course some sort of war strategy that goes entirely over everyone’s heads.</p>
  <p class="p3">4. Suspect: Severus Snape (accomplices: the Dark Lord &amp;co); method: polyjuice potion and/or dark magic based perception-altering; motive: um, Magic is Might, long live the Dark Lord, etcetera?</p>
  <p class="p3">5. Suspect: Gellert Grindelwald; method: Theo says he has a history of carrying out schemes with extended abuse of polyjuice potion, so that (did you know Theodore payed attention in history of magic? isn’t that adorable?); motive: still likely a combo of old blood politics and petty revenge, but also potentially with a weird kinky angle of, like, keeping Dumbledore captive? since if he’s using polyjuice it’s more efficient to keep him alive.</p>
  <p class="p3">6. Suspect: Amycus Carrow (accomplices: Alecto and also probably every single Death Eater); method: could’ve impero-ed a Dumbledore lookalike or something, couldn’t he?; motive: he’s the DADA professor, obviously he’s a suspect/ Death Eater motives, or whatever, but really, it’s <em>always</em> the DADA professor.</p>
  <p class="p3">7. Suspect: Harry Potter; method: fucking the laws of magic as usual; motive: I honestly just worry Draco will throw a tantrum if Potter isn’t on the shortlist. </p>
</blockquote><p class="p3"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>[we return to the early hours of 1998, where chapter 2 left off.]<br/>Where teenagers can't process their crushes or epiphanies, magic has a quantum physicality, and everything comes back to mothers.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">Harry is having an embarrassingly superfluous internal battle. It’s just that, walking from the kitchens to the seventh floor with Malfoy and Danny is silent in a way that makes him jumpy, and sure, Danny is babbling sporadically about how strange the portraits and staircases are, and Malfoy is impatiently shushing him, but Harry can not think of an acceptable way of interacting with that conversation. And Malfoy knows where the Room of Requirement is, so Harry is left feeling a bit useless in the scheme of the whole venture, and for some fucking reason his mind keeps fixating on entirely irrelevant details about Malfoy.</p><p class="p2">Malfoy is clearly in his pajamas, but his pajamas are nicer than any piece of clothing Harry can remember owning by several orders of magnitude. His hair isn’t fixed like it usually is, and a few strands fall over his eyes occasionally, and some stupid part of Harry wants to reach out and push them back behind his ears (he ignores it, of course). It certainly doesn’t help that they’re heading for the exact room that was the epicenter of what Ron termed Harry’s ‘<em>kinda abnormal Malfoy obsession,</em>’ which is just making Harry resentful and confused—resentful because Malfoy <em>had</em> been a death eater and <em>had</em> been up to something, which no one seems keen on factoring into their judgements; confused, because he knows Malfoy <em>isn’t</em> up to something now, but he’s still inexplicably interested.</p><p class="p2">It’s due to this that Harry ends up almost stumbling in to Malfoy when they reach the place where the Room shows up.</p><p class="p2">“Potter, are you with us?” Malfoy asks, his disdainful tone polluted by something Harry would call concern, if he didn’t know better.</p><p class="p2">“Yeah, sorry, spaced out a bit there!” Harry answers a bit too cheerily, giving Malfoy and Danny a grin he <em>knows</em> looks more deranged than reassuring.</p><p class="p2">Malfoy narrows his (stupidly silver far too knowing almost concerned) eyes, but lets it drop. “Right, well I was just telling Phantom here why he can’t simply go through the wall and get into the Room, because without the door present it’s in an unfixed state, fluctuating between realities and occupying infinite states at once,” Malfoy pauses to shoot a condescending look at Danny, “and I for one do not want to test the physics of intent responsive magic and, I don’t know, <em>break the castle.</em>”</p><p class="p2">Danny coughs unconvincingly and mumbles “I’ll listen better if you can like, call me by my name? Phantom is what my enemies call me it feels weird.”</p><p class="p2">Malfoy glares at him, but deflates a little. “Good grief maybe I <em>will</em> be your enemy if you don’t cease being a stupid bloody Gryffindor about everything!”</p><p class="p2">Harry keeps getting distracted by the intricate but expressive shifts in Malfoy’s eyes, and, as usual, his mouth says words before running them by his brain for proofreading. “So he can’t just, you know, go through the wall? If it’s all… ‘unfixed’ in there he can just… come back, can’t he.”</p><p class="p2">Malfoy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, wiping a hand over his face. “No, Potter, he can’t just ‘come back.’ The Room of Hidden Things isn’t <em>stable</em> whilst unused! An individual can arrive in a pre-decided version of the Room through other means of transport, but if the Room is not <em>already resolved into a single reality one cannot simply go in and come back</em>!”</p><p class="p2">“Alright, fine, sorry,” Harry mutters, raising his hands placatingly. He’s thankful his mouth has stopped just saying words, because it’d undoubtedly betray him by either bringing up the vanishing cabinet or admitting just how little of Malfoy’s explanation he understands. The part of Harry’s brain that’s a filthy traitor points out that this latter fact is probably because Malfoy is actually <em>smart</em>. “So, he can just summon the Room the normal way, right?”</p><p class="p2">“Yes, well, you <em>would</em> think so, wouldn’t you?” Malfoy answers, and it could be interpreted as an insult but it sounds more like commiseration. Harry notices, after following Malfoy’s glare, that Danny has flashed back to being all human and solid and, Harry assumes, has already tried this while he was lost thinking about Malfoy’s stupid hair.</p><p class="p2">Just as Malfoy’s forcibly disinterested expression is starting to waver, and Harry, still a bit hung up on Malfoy’s hair, is contemplating stunning himself to avoid doing something more impulsive and stupid than usual, the door appears. It looks… hesitant, like an imperfect memory of the door Harry associates with the Room. Judging by Malfoy’s narrowed eyes, he notices as well. Danny doesn’t seem to have noticed the door yet, and Malfoy clears his throat, presumably to get his attention.</p><p class="p2">“Oh!” Danny shrieks, midway through turning towards them, when he sees the door. “Oh, man, uh, wouldya look at that! That’s like, what’s s’pose to happen, right?”</p><p class="p2">“Nearly,” Malfoy sighs, gesturing at the door, “it isn’t settling, which is to be expected as the Castle has no reason to recognize you as a student or even a witch.”</p><p class="p2">“O…kay, but I can go in and not like destroy your whole universe now right?” Danny responds, glancing between Harry and Malfoy.</p><p class="p2">Harry says “Yeah I reckon so, the door’s just a bit flickery, and you’re a bit flickery too so should be fine!” and receives an exasperated glare from Malfoy, whose fingers are twitching on his wand as if he’s now contemplating stunning Harry.</p><p class="p2">Danny doesn’t seem to notice Malfoy’s apprehension, and gives them both a slightly manic thumbs-up before opening the door and striding in confidently. Malfoy leans against the wall, sliding down to sit and muttering something that sounds like “bloody Gryffindors.” He looks up at Harry with what’s likely meant to be an accusatory glare, but reads more as a resigned sort of acknowledgment. Harry shrugs, decides if he does anything truly regrettable he can just blame sleep deprivation or perhaps possession by Voldemort, and sits next to Malfoy.</p><p class="p2">“Hey, Danny’s not even a student, you can’t just decide he’s a Gryffindor,” Harry says conversationally.</p><p class="p2">Malfoy looks at him the way Hermione looks at Ron when he’s asked a stupid question—some mix of annoyance, amusement, and (inexplicably) fondness. “Potter, even putting aside the fact he’s here on an impulsive rescue mission with very little information and even less planning, that kid absolutely reeks of Gryffindor more than anyone I’ve met except you.”</p><p class="p2">Harry grins. “So you’re saying I’ve won, then?”</p><p class="p2">“Being the most reckless, impulsive, brash person in this school, with the worst sense of self-preservation of anyone I’ve ever met, does not mean you’ve ‘won,’ Potter. Besides, you can’t enjoy winning if—when—you’re murdered because you’re so bloody set on dying for a society which, in my observation, has not even been decent towards you with any sort of consistency.”</p><p class="p2">Harry’s brain stutters for a moment, doing an impression of something between television static on an unavailable channel, and a car stalling as it fails to shift gear. The tiny part that’s still trying frantically to be a brain wants to know how Malfoy knows this eventuality, and why he sounds like he <em>cares</em>, and is scrambling for a way to direct the conversation towards getting those answers without being completely tactless. As usual, it’s overruled by the rest of his thoughts, which are more interested in shoving words out his mouth without his consent. “Come off it Malfoy, even you’re being decent to me! Hell, you almost sound like you’d miss me!” Harry laughs, in the dissociative, hysterical way one can only laugh when their outrageous disaster of a life has recently become, impossibly, more outrageous.</p><p class="p2">“Potter—” Malfoy clenches his jaw and stares at his fingers as if they’ve just crucio-ed him, “Harry—”</p><p class="p2">Harry’s eyes jolt over to Malfoy at the sound of his first name. Given, Malfoy sounds like addressing him as such has physically wounded him, but it’s still wildly unexpected. He wants to respond, but ends up blinking so furiously his glasses slip down his nose, and once he’s righted them he realizes he’s no idea what to do with his hands now, and ends up staring at Mal—Draco in a confused, distant sort of shock. Figures, Harry thinks, that after all the absolute nonsense that’s been the first seventeen years of his life he’s struck mute by <em>this</em> of all moments.</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">Malfoy</span> Draco is still staring at his hands with an intense glare that could likely rival a basilisk. “Harry, if you tell anyone I’ve said this I will slip a slow acting, painful poison into your breakfast, but it is… unpalatable, your dying,” he almost looks at Harry, but keeps his gaze fixed just over his shoulder, “I mean to say… well, I <em>would</em> rather you didn’t. Die, that is.”</p><p class="p2">Harry is tempted to pinch himself. Sure, Ron and Hermione will be a bit miffed when he dies, but it’s not like it’s unexpected. Hell, he’s surprised he’s lasted this long, what with the almost-dying every spring for the past six years; he honestly assumed everyone was desensitized to it at this point. “M- Draco, em, sorry, but<em> what the hell</em>?”</p><p class="p2">Draco sighs, fishing more wine out of what must be a pocket with an (admittedly impressive) undetectable extension charm. He takes an undignified gulp from the bottle, then buries his face in his palms wearily. “Good grief,” he mutters, relaxing his fingers so he can speak through them, “Harry Potter, you are <em>entirely</em> bloody <em>mental</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Before Harry can figure out what the fuck that means, the door to the Room of Requirement goes shimmery and translucent, and Danny flies through it backwards, wide-eyed and looking very frazzled.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">——</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Draco is vaguely aware that this is likely analogous to what muggleborns feel when first observing magic—as if all the rules of everything have just become more of a loose suggestion, and Merlin forbid he try to figure it all out lest he end up panicking and obliviating himself and live out the rest of his existence in the Janus Thickey ward. He knows he <em>should</em> be used to this sort of paradigm shift by now. He should have just accepted that nothing fits into the logic he grew up with when Millicent got into muggle history and they all realized his father is a Wizard Nazi (which is bad, although he’s still digesting the historical context, but he knows the Nazis were like muggle followers of Grindelwald, and also that they really fucked up).</p><p class="p2">And yet. He’s somehow entirely unprepared for the Room of Requirement to forcibly eject some atypically magical ghost kid with a predictably cryptic scroll and an assortment of seemingly random items. If Draco weren’t painfully aware of the fact that the current acting headmaster is not Albus Dumbledore, he’d suspect Dumbledore to be behind it. Actually, hell, since half of his present company has literally died, and the other half is apparently going to and then come back, it’s probably not much of a stretch to say Dumbledore is behind whatever this is.</p><p class="p2">Draco only doesn’t catch the scroll and items because he’s having an existential moment. <span class="s1">Potter</span> Harry, he assumes, is used to existential moments at this point, so it’s definitely not a matter of skill that Harry catches the scroll and two of the objects, leaving Danny to slam against the opposite wall and end up holding the third and fourth objects by pure chance.</p><p class="p2">Despite his attempts to adjust to even more nonsense, Draco finds he’s sorely tempted to obliviate himself anyway. Harry shakes his head, looking resigned, and falls against the wall next to Danny, while Draco walks over in a not-unpleasant dissociative daze and takes in the nonsensical array of things they’ve set down before them: a large marble, not unlike a rememberall but with green smoke swirling inside; half of a pomegranate, perfectly preserved so even the exposed seeds aren’t browning; a purple plastic bat, about the size of his palm; and a single dried miniature pumpkin.</p><p class="p2">Draco remains in his dissociative daze as he drifts over to sit next to the other two, falling to the ground with very little idea what his limbs are actually doing, and blinking slowly when he notices he’s scooped up the pomegranate half and is holding it reverently. He stares between the pomegranate, Harry, Danny, and the other objects, then, without meaning to, says “oh, good, this is far more than six.” His voice sounds nothing like his voice and he’s suddenly absolutely certain that this is what it feels like to be Luna Lovegood.</p><p class="p1">Harry looks up from where he’s been frowning at the pumpkin, mumbling about <em>“more bloody quest items,”</em> and gives Draco a questioning look.</p><p class="p1">“Seeds,” Draco says in his not-his-voice, “there are far more than six. Dozens of extras.”</p><p class="p1">“Uhh,” Danny says, focusing on Draco and seemingly recovered from being thrown against the wall a moment ago. “Is that like, a witch thing?”</p><p class="p1">“Not that… I’m aware of?” Harry says, still looking at Draco like he’s grown another head, “could be a potion or something from witching tradition? I’m rubbish at potions and don’t know shite about most of witching culture outside, well, this castle.”</p><p class="p1">Draco blinks slowly, then again, more slowly, to give himself time to interpret the runes scrolling across the backs of his eyelids. “A ritual,” he says breathily, “dead but not… rebirth… <em>fuck</em> if I’d simply <em>asked</em> mother! <em>Merlin</em>, we’ve all been entirely daft!” Draco is slowly coming back into his own body, and thus realizing he sounds near hysteria, but <em>fuck it</em>. “The bloody immortality, all of it, how in Salazar’s name did we miss it? Pansy is going to be beside herself I cannot—Narcissus! This whole time! Merlin and Morrígan and Salazar and Morgana and Mylcades Slytherin—”</p><p class="p1">“DRACO!” It must not be the first time Harry has called his name, because both he and Danny look very concerned.</p><p class="p1">Draco can’t help his unhinged smile (not a smirk, but a mad <em>grin</em>). “Harry,” he starts, unable to completely rid his voice of the manic tinge, “your mother—was she named for the asphodel flower? Elyse, maybe, or Lily?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>How the fuck</em>—” Harry takes a visible breath, “you could easily have known her name was Lily, Malfoy what the hell is your point?”</p><p class="p1">Draco flinches at the sudden regression to his surname. Danny is flickering, seemingly trying not to go instinctively invisible at the sudden tension. “Harry- Potter- Harry,” Draco starts again, forced calm, “I swear to you I did not know that until just now when you confirmed it. I apologize, I have been struggling to understand some concerning realities all term, and I lost myself a moment in the excitement of a solution.”</p><p class="p1">There is a silence.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry for uh… well it seems like this is kinda maybe a, um, heavyish topic? But, and I dunno about Harry, but I have no frickin clue what you’re talking about,” Danny says finally.</p><p class="p1">“No, I have… no clue either,” Harry adds, voice tight but steady.</p><p class="p1">Draco closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, counting back from twelve, then says “I believe I’ve figured out how Dumbledore has seemingly come back from the dead, and, given I cannot be certain, but I think it is related to <em>all of this</em>.” He gestures at Harry, Danny, the items, the scroll, himself. “And, Danny, assuming I’m correct, did you intend to disclose the necessity of my dying as well? Or were you going to be the Dumbledore to my Harry Potter, as it were?”</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well folks! We've seemingly started going in some kind of direction. Ideas on what that direction is are welcome, if not guaranteed to be accurate.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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